


Where the Heat Is

by Mercurie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Community: insmallpackages, Demons, F/F, Groping, Missing Scene, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurie/pseuds/Mercurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby misses the heat of Hell. Lilith carries it with her wherever she goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Heat Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melanth0](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=melanth0).



> Prompt: _it's cold up here_

Fresh blood reminds Ruby of Hell. It's red and steaming on her hands, warming them like a hot mug. She resists the urge to curl her fingers into the heat. Blood is most potent when used immediately, before it cools. She needs to work fast or the spell will fail.

The bathroom sink is as good a place as any. She's taken care of everyone in the house and there's no chance of anyone disturbing her. The pieces come together quickly under her fingers, mechanically skillful with long practice. Fresh blood, a very particular selection of herbs, a piece of bone, a piece of metal, a clod of earth. She knows the incantation so well she no longer thinks about the words while saying them. She learned them lifetimes ago.

“How very thoughtful of you,” someone says. Despite herself, Ruby gasps and jumps before regaining her self-control. The mirror over the sink is broken, but she doesn't need to see her visitor's face to recognize Lilith. That presence is unmistakable. She pauses for only a moment before returning to the spell.

“Hello,” she says.

Lilith drifts closer; Ruby can see the distorted reflection out of the corner of her eye.

“Let's see,” Lilith says, “let's see. Fresh blood – not just fresh, but young. Aramaic incantation. Soil from a grave older than 200 years. So much work for a protective amulet. Must be that Sam Winchester.”

 _That Sam Winchester._

“Just doing what I'm told. My small contribution to the grand plan. We can't have him dying, can we?”

Lilith stands close behind her shoulder. Despite the proximity, no breath tickles Ruby's skin. Breathing is something it takes a long time to forget – Ruby still does it, reflexively – but Lilith hasn't been human for such a long time. Even though her meatsuit isn't breathing, the flesh is still warm. Living without breath, not quite alive, but not dead, either. Like the blood, it reminds Ruby of Hell. She crushes a tiny part of her that yearns toward that warm body as if toward home.

“Cold up here, isn't it?” Lilith says. “In these bodies. They don't compare with... what you're used to.”

Ruby _is_ cold, all the time. Wearing a meatsuit is like walking around in an icepack compared to the fires of Hell. But as a general rule, she avoids admitting to weaknesses. “What you're used to, too,” she says.

“Me? I've got too much of Hell inside me to ever be cold.” As if to prove her point, Lilith presses against Ruby's back. And it's true – she's not just warm, she's _hot_ , a heat that shoots right through Ruby's meatsuit down into her, well, her real self, whatever she is. Lilith is like a little piece of home to her demon soul and she wants to press back into the first real warmth she's felt since she escaped Hell. Escaped home. She also wants to stab Lilith to fucking oblivion. She does neither.

Lilith reaches around and shoves her fingers into the mess of blood still covering Ruby's hands and forearms. “Already cold?” she says. “I'm sure your amulet will be formidable anyway.” She pokes the little pouch with its charmed contents and Ruby knows the spell will be much stronger now that something so powerful has touched it.

Lilith drags her hands back up Ruby's arms. Her skin leaves a trail of drying blood and heat wherever it touches and Ruby takes a sharp breath. It feels good, too good. Too comfortable. Lilith's hands cling like silk and she can't help leaning forward a little as they smooth their way up her chest, over her heart. She's hot inside for the first time in so long. Nimble fingers slip under her shirt and she grasps at them, not to pull them away but to pull them closer, relishing the contact of bare skin to bare skin. She guides Lilith's hand over her stomach, tight against her breasts, shivering all the while.

Warm lips find her neck. Lilith licks the soft skin there, nips at it, and lets her hand travel down this time. _Hell likes to hit you below the belt,_ Ruby remembers someone saying, she has no idea who. The mother of all demons is feeling her up and she's getting some dead kid's blood all over her clothes. She really should say something at this point, but – well, Lilith 's fingers find their goal and Ruby gasps and rocks her hips forward instead. _So hot._ Burning right through her. Burning right _into_ her.

“You _are_ cold,” Lilith says, teeth in her ear. “I'd throw myself at the Winchester boy too, just for the body heat. Lots of it. Maybe he's got a little Hell in him, too.”

“So I've heard,” Ruby chokes out.

“Still, I'm sure he can't do _this_.” Lilith does something with her hand that hurts and it's bright and painful and Ruby has to bite her lip to keep from begging for more. She can feel every inch of that pretty blonde meatsuit pressed against her back – and more, she can feel the malevolent spirit burning inside it like a fire waiting to leap its confines and consume the neighborhood. Or the world. She moves her hips in slow, half-conscious circles. Lilith's hand slips into her hair and grips it tight, pulling her head back. She sees their faces in the broken mirror, Lilith smiling with perfect, hungry teeth and herself bright-eyed and open-mouthed. She laughs.

For a while, she's able to forget everything but the heat.

Finally, Lilith pulls away, leaving her weak-kneed and shivering. The cold creeps back in far too fast. An image flashes through Ruby's mind of a puddle, edges cracking with frost as the ice moves in for the kill. The blood for the amulet has already dried into lifeless, flaky stains. She can't wait for Hell on Earth. Blood and fire flowing forever.

Lilith's eyes take in her handwork and she smiles. There's blood on her hands, still, but aside from that, she looks unmoved. Maybe a little more predatory than before. Pleased with herself. Ruby would be, too, in her place.

“Remember what you're working for,” Lilith says.

Ruby remembers. It's certainly not Sam Winchester.


End file.
